Daydreams
by x-menobsessed26
Summary: Are daydreams more dangerous than we think? Rated M for second chapter! AU! Two-shot.


**John POV**

I know people always ask the annoying overused question 'why is it always me?', expecting either someone to actually answer, usually with a lie as to why they're awesome, or the heavens to open up and tell them the same thing said person would. What is it with humans wanting to know how awesome they are?

However, with the specific person, not the religious figure, the said complainer knows damn well that the person they're actually saying it to doesn't give a rat's ass enough to listen to them half the time and pay attention. In my case, it is not a matter of seeking an impossible answer or wanting to build myself up, but simply an expression and release of built up frustration.

So I ask, why is it always me?

Why was it me who was caught as a runaway, shipped around to much more than my fair share of abusive foster homes, and finally thrown in this mutant based prison they have the nerve to label as a school? Wait…

Why is it me who is seemingly the only one in this God forsaken social prison who seems to actually enjoy having and want to use their powers? Not hate or just put on a good face like we all know Mr. Summers is doing.

Why is it me who became instantly attracted to the number one woman on the 'John cannot have' list?

Which woman is it? Her name is well known by the mutants and humans alike, quickly a household name on the subject of mutant politics, much to my discontent. Dr. Jean E. Grey.

* * *

I was sitting in one of her biology classes, listening to the sound of her voice, but not what she was saying, not that it mattered much. Academic sciences and I didn't exactly get along.

Oh, how I ached to tell her how I felt, how watching her teach with that impassioned look in her brown eyes made me smile, even though I should have been taking notes like my surrounding classmates. However, I'm not as stupid as I sound. I know that if I went anywhere near Jean, despite the obvious relationship problems they were having, her boyfriend would blast me across town with his pansy red laser beam.

And if I somehow survived, I was sure I would get to taste adamantium for the first and last time. Let's not forget that Jean herself has proven to be a formidable opponent and more than capable of defending herself. I would be dead from any of these people if I made a move, assuming my trusty lighter wasn't around.

Ah, my lighter, the source of my fire. I love fire. Fire is me and I am it as long as there is something to spark one nearby. Another one of life's damned jokes. Unfortunately, I'm not allowed to truly experiment with what I can do here, all these goody two shoes afraid of getting a little warm. The thought of having my fire snuffed-no! I can't happen. Ever. The only thing worse than that would be if they snuffed her.

Jean. She's fire in and of herself, but not so much in the physical sense, though I'm sure she could keep me warm if we really tried. She has enough emotional warmth in such a way that she is a living flame with a sultry voice.

I could just imagine that voice whispering my name as I kiss the soft, pale skin of her neck, flushed with arousal. I can practically feel her hands grasping my back as her whispers turn to groans. I can see her half-lidded brown eyes as my mouth moves to her-

"John!"

I'm snapped out of my daydream, and left looking to the gorgeous face of Jean, red-faced with her annoyance, and the bored faces of my fellow classmates, a bit used to me getting into trouble, "Yes, Ms. Grey."

She narrowed her bright eyes at me, "See me after class."

I realized then what I should have before. She had probably seen and heard what was running through my mind. Damn telepathic teachers. I didn't know whether to laugh or hang my head in shame. Surely I wasn't the only student to fantasize about her in her presence, and I certainly wasn't the only one to fantasize about her period.

The rest of the class went by as fast as a snail moving through molasses, but it eventually ended. I stood with the rest of the class when the bell rang, but instead of gathering my belongings, I moved to stand in front of her desk.

She telekinetically closed the classroom door and leaned backward against the front of her desk, "Let's cut to the chase. You haven't paid any attention in any of my classes...ever. Your grade is suffering and you clearly don't get on well with my courses, but you insist on signing up for every one I teach. I've talked to the other teachers, and that is not the case with them. Quite the opposite. Would you care to explain?"

I looked at the wall, and then the floor, moving a bit on my feet nervously, "Something tells me you already know."

Her eyes flashed, "John, you know I-"

"Don't!" I shouted. "Can't you just leave me alone with my daydreams? They're not hurting anything!"

"It's not healthy for you," Jean sighed. "I know how you feel, how it makes you feel, but it isn't right. Something needs to be done."

I felt like crying for the first time in years, and pushed the lump in my throat over so I could talk, "Didn't you ever have a crush on someone you couldn't have?"

Her gaze softened, "Yes, but I kept telling myself it was wrong, illegal even, and it eventually became bearable."

She took a few steps toward me, her sugary, floral scent making my head spin. Jean touched my cheek gently, and I leaned into it, at which point she quickly withdrew it and shook her head, "Why is it illegal?"

"We are not discussing my situation, John. We're discussing yours," she walked away. "I'm afraid that, like I said, something needs to be done."

"Like what?"

"Well, first of all, you need tutoring. Badly. I was thinking maybe Bobby or Kitty? Also, you would be prohibited from taking any classes of mine from now on. You will still be enrolled in these courses, but you will instead meet with Professor Xavier. Third, we need to get you some form of therapy. A crush is fine, John, but what you're feeling isn't just a small crush. It borders on adoration and that's not acceptable."

A tear shamefully fell from my right eye, trailing down my cheek, "I don't adore you. I love you. There's a difference."

She rubbed her temples, "Even so, it's still wrong."

"Why was your crush illegal?"

"I've already told you that my story doesn't matter."

"So you can go all through my business, but I can't know anything about yours?" I nearly shouted.

Jean glared back at me, "I am the teacher. I am an adult. I am a legal guardian to half of these students. You do not need to know me any more than a teacher would know a student or a doctor a patient. Do I make myself clear?"

I backed down, crumpling in humiliation, "Yes, ma'am."

She must have sensed the amount of depression coming off of me because she smiled sadly and answered, "My crush was illegal because most places don't condone teachers falling for students. You may leave."

My eyebrows furrowed, "Was it someone here?"

She didn't answer.

My curiosity was going crazy, "I won't stop. Not until I know."

She sighed angrily, "John, stop this! Think sensibly!"

"Tell me! I care about you, Jean! I would never do anything to hurt you or your reputation."

Images flashed through my mind so fast I thought I was hallucinating. It took me a moment to realize that she was putting them there. What they were would cement my affection for her, though I don't think that was her intention that night. I think she just wanted me gone.

They were of her and me in various stages of intimacy, though clearly in love and some were damn lustful too.

When they stopped, my head spun and as I focused on not falling over, she looked at me with a hunger in her eyes which I'm sure matched what I was feeling. She strode forward and kissed me so hard and long, so unlike any kiss I'd ever had before that I nearly did fall.

Before gathering her briefcase and leaving the classroom, she smiled at me sadly once more and kissed my cheek. Over her shoulder, she spoke to me, the last words I would hear from her before I left the Institute for another school, someone down in Alabama.

"You're not the only one who daydreams, John."

* * *

**There is a smutty epilogue/sequel coming which will be posted as Chapter 2 later, though I'm not sure when. Please review!**

**Oh, BTW, I **_**may have**_** (did) make Jean a bit younger than her movie counterpart so as to shorten the age gap between the two, though it is still significant, but instead of being around fifteen years, it's now around nine or ten.**


End file.
